


snow

by glitter_demon



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, POV Beauregard Lionett, anyway lucien is so creepy i love it, aslfkjhasdlkfjhdfkjh, i wrote this right after episode 27 so uh this is really old, thats it, this is literally just me being sad abt molly dying a year ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28432227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitter_demon/pseuds/glitter_demon
Summary: Beau didn't grieve, as a rule, of sorts; but a friend stolen away before she could even really know him is a cause for it, in the end.
Kudos: 5





	snow

**Author's Note:**

> lol so this is really old, like right after molly died old, but i'm still sad about his death (especially since the nein are travelling with lucien now alksdhfkh) so have this really old fic qwq

Why did it have to be snowing?

That shouldn't have been the first thing to cross Beau’s mind, but it was. 

She hated snow, hated how it bit at her fingers and coalesced into sharp little crystals that would drain away everything you had if you didn't ward it off with just a little bit of warmth.

They had warmth, of course, and the snow was never anything more than an inconvenience, but at that moment she didn't care. She couldn't focus on the cold or the pain or how harshly bright the snow looked against his blood or-

Holy shit.

His blood.

_ Molly's  _ blood.

She vaguely noticed Lorenzo talking to Keg out of the corner of her eye, wrenching his glaive out of the corpse- no, Molly, it was still Molly. He might not be dead yet. She couldn't tell what they were saying, everything drowned out by the roar in her ears. She didn't know if it was grief or shock or anger, didn't  _ care  _ which one it was, she only knew that she had to make that bastard hurt as much as she did.

But then he was gone, and more of Molly's blood was dripping into this goddamn snow.

She went to check his pulse, and found that the snow had turned to water on his skin, just as insubstantial as his heartbeat.

No. No, no, he  _ couldn’t  _ be—

She forced herself to look at his face, because fuck this, maybe his blood hunter shit made him okay, because Molly couldn't be dead.

But he was, and she knew the second she looked.

Because it was all so  _ wrong _ .

His eyes shouldn't look so cold and hopeless- he was never like that, they should be happy and warm and have that little glint of mischievousness when he glanced at Yasha out of the corner of his eye, when she would cross her arms and smile a little. He should be moving, flicking his tail as his jewelry clinks and sending little shards of light almost as colorful as he was. He should be singing- gods, he was a terrible singer, but his enthusiasm and energy more than made up for it. He should be smiling, a big fanged grin as he finished talking (quite loudly, of course) about some bullshit plan he had, and she would smile and pat him on the shoulder as they kept walking. He should be doing  _ anything _ , because Molly was always so alive and he didn't deserve this.

But he was dead.

She blinked back tears, only remembering that the others were there when Nott crouched beside her, clinging onto her arm for dear life. Her claws hurt, but Beau pulled her closer and sat in silence until Caleb broke it, his words barely audible in the cold winter wind.

“Shine bright, circus man.”


End file.
